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If this was happening earlier on in my career, I would have been dropped in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t be able to get another contract, and that would be the end of me. I wouldhaveto find something else to do with my life.
I’m just lucky that I have a great, solid career behind me to fall back on. People can recall my track record when they see me falling apart, and they don’t need to freak out too much…
But I can’t help but worry that this might be the beginning of the end.
“Get it together,” Benjamin calls out to me, with a severe warning edge to his tone. “Come on, Alex, we need you. Get your head in the game.”
I can’t even nod. That’s the tragic part of all of this. I don’t have the strength to keep on pretending. I want to take Benjamin’s words to heart and give him what he needs, what the whole freaking team needs, but I don’t know if I can.
I search desperately inside for another ounce of strength, but shit… do I even have it? Do I have anything at all left to give?
The puck comes my way, which I take as fate. It’s a sign that this is my chance to show everyone that there is still a piece of the old Alex Barrett in here.
I slide through the other players with ease, almost as if the other team feels sorry for me and wants to give me a chance. It isn’t that, of course. They love how much I’m suffering, I’m sure. But then… just as my confidence starts to surge back through me, I fumble.
I don’t even know what freaking happens. I just kinda trip over nothing, ruining the one chance I had to show the world what I can do.
Every tiny scrap of confidence I had slips away, and my hand is shaking so hard that my stick almost drops. I really can’t do this anymore. Red rage burns through my body like wildfire. I know I can’t contain it no matter what I do. Deep down, I know I’m about to be benched again, and that pushes me over the edge.
I’m going to be a joke again tomorrow.
The press willlovethis.
Fucking hell.
I don’t even need to be called off the ice, I know it’s coming, so I skate to the side lines, refusing to meet Coach’s eyes as I clamber off.
This isn’t my best look, but it’s one I’m annoyingly starting to get used to.
What can I do? How the hell can I get back to who I’m supposed to be?
I take my seat on the bench, silently stewing and hating myself. My leg shakes, my hands intertwine with one another, the burning anger is almost impossible to control. It doesn’t help that I can feel all eyes on me, every whisper in the stadium about me.
What am I doing here?
Why am I still doing this?
A part of me wants to take off, to leave this all behind me, whether it’s been my dream for years or not. If there was any other dream waiting for me outside of this stadium, then I might go for it so that I don’t have to have everyone looking at me like I’m a pariah.
I wish Riley were here.
Really, that’s the only thing I keep concentrating on. I wish she were one of the people looking at me. I might be able to handle it then. I wouldn’t need to focus on anyone else because her eyes would be enough.
But she isn’t in New York City. She’s gone home, and I don’t even know where that is.
Although… Wait, didn’t she tell me at some point? She might have even mentioned it the first time that we met. Her family moved when her father died because her mom didn’t want to be in the city any longer, but they didn’t go too far.
I rack my brain desperately, trying to remember what she said, trying to recall where she might be. So much has happened between us, it’s difficult to recall everything…
But it soon comes to mind.
Cold Springs.
Shit, now I remember.
Not only do I remember, but I want to go.Right now.There is so much of this game left, and I don’t know how much I can handle sitting around like an idiot especially now I have an action plan to potentially make everything better.
I don’t think there’s any point in me sitting around and doing nothing. It isn’t going to get me anywhere, so despite knowing I shouldn’t, I get up and leave the stadium with a small plan that might not really get me anywhere. But I have to try.
